


starts with a scream

by merriell



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriell/pseuds/merriell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SWEDEN, 20XX. A short continuation of A Figurative Storm. Malai Kadesayurat was sleeping. [Written for runaway-tales.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	starts with a scream

**Author's Note:**

> written for runaway-tales cookies 'n' cream #14: scream.

Malai Kadesayurat was sleeping inside the sleeping bag her brother had given her when her blue golem nudged her until she roused from sleep, sleepiness still lingering from the edges of her eyes when she stared up at the streams of light that were slipping through the barrier. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Empty sleeping bags were all around her, the owners already missing from the insides. Her eyes travel to search from her brother from between the shady trees that surrounded the barriers.

“Mongkut?” She called as she got out of the sleeping bag. Gianna, the blue golem, floated ahead of her to a certain direction; trusting its skills, Malai followed her while she stroked the hurt that scattered all over her body from sleeping in a hard ground. She missed the conservation’s bed already, the warm meals and the soft pillows. Too late to go back now, though.

Gianna brought her to an opening that were located between shorter trees from the ones she could see before—at a medium-sized rock sat Mongkut, her brother, the mask Daniel had robbed away from his face was missing. He didn’t look up as she approached him, only silently studying the parchment in his hands, his eyes the only one moving.

“Good morning, brother,” she greeted him with a smile. Gianna landed on her shoulder, folding its wings around the sphere-like body of it. “Is it safe already for us to get out from this damned mountain? I’m seriously missing a bed.”

Mongkut raised his eyes to meet her; there was a burn mark on his jaw from pieces of fire charm snubs. “No, it’s not safe yet. Violet Skarsgard is searching for us. Unsurprisingly.” He explained in the easy, light manner of his; he then pulled his gaze away from Malai as there were movements from the bushes. Malai followed his gaze, more from curiosity rather than anything else, moving from a feet to another one as she did.

From the bushes emerged a beautiful, slender shape of a deer, but when it turned its head to them, you could see the strange white markings etched to its forehead in white fur while the rest of its body were chocolate. The eyes were the color of milk, no irises nor pupils, but if it were staring at you, you’d realize at once. It wasn’t a mere deer—it was a Dyr. There was a nagging feeling at the base of Malai’s stomach that was familiar to the sensation.

“Of course she’s on our ass, we took away the conservation’s pride and joy,” Malai retorted as she folded her hand in front of her chest. She scratched an itch on her upper arm, unconsciously fidgeting as she felt the creature’s eyes on her. She felt uncomfortable. She would rather be with her golems—they were familiar and not foreign, and their gaze she could stand. But the Dyr’s eyes on her made something crawl under her skin, a feeling that she wasn’t so much fond of.

“Can you try and touch it?”

“ _Touch it_? No.”

“You just don’t want to. Come on, it won’t bite.”

Her brother’s hand grabbed her wrist, involuntarily taking her closer to the Dyr, who was peering at them curiously. She didn’t want to, resenting quietly her brother attitude to force her even though she made it obvious that she didn’t want to, but out of a lifetime of ‘ _respect your elders_ ’ culture ingrained to her brain, she complied all the same.

The Dyr peered at them as they got closer, and she found herself scrunching her nose. There was a smell of faint wet soil searing from it that Malai could sniff; this was a common element of the creatures in the conservation, but she usually worked from the headquarters while her golems roamed around for surveillance—it was her specialty, and the cause of people’s eyes rolling when she ever tried to talk about how maintaining consciousness of more than thirty golems at once was a hard job.

“Touch it,” her brother commanded.

She didn’t want to. There was a primal, almost ancient feeling on her gut that indicated that she shouldn’t. But her brother caught the doubt in her eyes; the grip on her wrist tightened and he harshly tugged her hand. Malai closed her eyes tightly, hitting herself silently on her mind on how stupid she was for being so terrified of the creature. It wasn’t like it was the carnivore Yvel or the dangerous spirits from South East Asia. But she was scared all the same.

“Brother— _Mongkut_ —this isn’t funny, _this isn’t funny_!” she yelled at him. Her voice was clear against the silence of the forest. Where are the others?

Her brother tugged at her hand again, and she could feel her fingertips touching fur, something akin to the kittens her neighbor used to have. Despite her resistance, her brother muscles were firmer—her hand was outstretched and she could felt the fur in every part of her palm.

Then she screamed.


End file.
